


How to Knight Your Demon

by The_Bentley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Drinking, Duelling, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Knighting ceremony, M/M, Rough Sex, Scene: Kingdom of Wessex 537 AD (Good Omens), Some Humor, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27490291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: “I . . . I dub thee Sir Crowley the Black Knight.  It is time to show your appreciation, foul fiend.”When Aziraphale finds out Crowley isn't really a knight, he sets out to correct that.  Only it turns out to be less of a knighting ceremony and more of an excuse to get a blow job.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 138
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	How to Knight Your Demon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mirach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirach/gifts).



> Because she came up with the prompt on the Discord server. I just ran with it even though I told myself I was going to cut back on the one-shots to concentrate on my multi-chapter fics.

_Kingdom of Wessex, 530s AD_

It was another day, another skirmish. This time Aziraphale was winning, but Crowley would next time because that’s how it went — one side did not score against the other, keeping their game tied. Everyone seemed happy with that outcome, except Crowley who would rather be sitting in front of a warm fire than chasing and being chased all over the foggy countryside by his celestial opponent. He was daydreaming of that right at this moment while Aziraphale stood behind him with the flat of his sword against his neck. If the angel drew it towards him, he could easily choke Crowley, but he didn’t bother with such a move since neither of them needed oxygen.

“Will you concentrate?” Aziraphale snapped, annoyed that once again Crowley seemed to have retreated to his own little world right in the middle of a duel. “Our little fights are supposed to look realistic. I do not want to get lectured by Michael again for letting you off easy.”

“Hmmm? Oh. Yeah.” With a speed that rivalled a striking snake, Crowley ducked and turned, somehow twisting his way out of Aziraphale’s hold with his self-satisfied grin evident on his face as his helmet clanged dully against the dirt. “You won’t catch me, Sir Aziraphale. How’s that?”

Sighing, Aziraphale chucked his helmet back at him, Crowley catching it deftly in his ungloved hand. Tucking it under one arm, he brushed his hand through the sweaty topknot he had made of his red hair per the utilitarian style of the locals at the time. The sides were crudely shaved and it was the least fashionable Aziraphale had seen Crowley since fashion had been invented, but he had given it up in exchange for an attempt to be as comfortable as possible. Armour didn’t come with its own means to cool it, although both had pondered miracles to not only make it less hot but less heavy and cumbersome as well.

“You don’t even act like a knight,” Aziraphale complained, then it struck him. “Are . . . are you even knighted?”

Crowley shrugged in a sheepish manner as he jammed the helmet back on his head and raised the face mask, so they could continue to have a decent conversation. “I’m the bad guy. It’s not like we go out there and ask the king for a knighthood to make it all legitimate.”

“You mean I’ve been fighting merely a demon in armour?”

“Yeah. Is this a problem?”

Yes, there was a problem. It offended Aziraphale’s sensibilities. He was a Knight of the Table Round. It was his job to fight other knights, not the local riff-raff. He had standards. The angel huffed before storming off to his white steed. 

“I cannot believe all this time I’ve been fighting a faux knight. We’re going to have to fix this, Crowley. I can’t be fighting . . . commoners. It just won’t do for a knight of my station.”

“How holier-than-thou of you.”

“I _am_ an angel.”

“Stop putting on airs. You’re a Principality, not a Seraph.”

“We’re going to have to rectify this.” With concerted effort, the angel got his armour-heavy self up into his saddle while Crowley tried not to laugh at him. “Are you free tonight?”

“No plans.”

“Good. Does your domicile work?”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure the lads aren’t around. Give me until sundown to clear the place.”

“I will see you then.”

Aziraphale galloped off, awkwardly seated on his poor horse. Crowley couldn’t decide who’d have more saddle sores — the angel or his mount. Turning back to where his own black charger was hobbled, he undid the ropes and patted the side of her neck. 

“C’mon, Bentley. Let’s go home.” 

With any luck, he’d get there without falling off.

~*~*~

The small abandoned castle Crowley had assumed ownership of by way of squatting rights — if such a thing existed in King Arthur’s time — was quiet without his usual rowdy bunch of minions eating, drinking, arguing and getting into the occasional fight in the hall before they wandered off to the dorms for the night. He had sent them off on a mission to hunt down Sir Percival whom he said might be in the area in his quest to find the Holy Grail. It wasn’t a total lie — he said _might_ , not _was_. It wouldn’t do to have them around when he was meeting with his sworn enemy.

He waited in his study for Aziraphale, sipping a mug of mead before a roaring fire and thinking about how humans would ferment anything that had promise. But he did find the mead in this locale to be too heavily spiced for his tastes and a tad on the too-sweet side. This wasn’t Rome, so you took what you could get even if the diet heavy on roasted meat became tiresome. For the love of all that’s unholy, he did miss Rome. There was a civilisation with some culture, unlike the backwoods heathens here on this damp island. He hated it right now, not even remotely suspecting that it would become his beloved home in the future.

“You’re late, angel,” he said as he heard the door creak open.

“You never gave a time beyond sundown, my dear fellow.”

Aziraphale was all softness now without his armour, dressed in a light beige tunic with leggings that were a shade darker and leather shoes of a rich brown, all covered in that ridiculous furred cape he always wore on his shoulders, armoured or not. This time it was held on by a gold chain with angel wing medallions that pinned on to the cape to keep it from falling off his shoulders. Crowley stood up to look him up and down, taking in the angelic vision before him as Aziraphale fairly glowed in the soft light of the fire. He wrenched his gaze away to offer a chair beside his as a good host should.

“Please sit down.”

“Thank you.” The cloak was removed to be delicately placed on the back of the chair before Aziraphale lowered himself into it with care.

“Sore from riding?”

“It’s to be expected.”

“Here.” Crowley snapped his fingers and Aziraphale’s soreness dissipated. “Now I’m curious to know how you propose to knight me as you are no king, angel.”

“Do I need to be a king? I am the patron of a nation. That’s my role as a Principality and it puts me above the human’s kings. I think that means I can knight you.” 

“Doubtful. Knighthood ceremonies involve God, churches, ritual cleansings and the like. I’m not standing in a chapel for ten hours in silent prayer while burning my feet before being slapped on the shoulders with a sword flat and declared ‘Sir Crowley’.”

Aziraphale leaned forward and there was no mistaking the look in his sky blue eyes that Crowley could easily interpret despite the dim light of his study. It was one of pure lust. Crowley smirked behind the hand cupped on his chin, extending his fingers to cover it up. Getting control of himself he offered Aziraphale some mead that the angel accepted readily. They both sipped at it before continuing the conversation. 

“So how do you propose we do this?” asked Crowley.

“Kneel before me, creature of Hell, and I will make you worthy of our battles.”

“Awfully arrogant of you, don’t you think?”

“I had to say _something_ that sounded impressive!” Aziraphale turned a lovely shade of red that had nothing to do with the heat of the fire against his cheeks. 

“Sorry . . . sorry. I’ll try to take this more seriously.” Crowley’s gaze flicked down to Aziraphale’s lap. “I think I have an idea of what sword you can use.”

Aziraphale was interested. “Oh?”

He rose from his chair, Crowley standing with him. The demon took the embroidered pillow from his chair and with a casual toss threw it into the middle of the room beyond the chairs by the fireplace. Walking over to it, he knelt. Serpentine eyes stared up at the angel, their yellow depths seductively covered by half-closed lids as a small smile played across Crowley’s mouth. An eyebrow rose slowly.

“Will this do?”

Aziraphale swallowed as he felt his drawers start to become tight. Ignoring it as best he could, he joined Crowley, standing in front of the cushion Crowley knelt on, blushing again when the condition of certain areas didn’t escape Crowley’s attention. He cleared his throat in an attempt to gather the shreds of his dignity around himself before giving up. What did it matter? It wasn’t like he and Crowley hadn’t engaged in such pleasures of the flesh before even if they had never turned it into some kind of warped knighting ceremony. Crowley was reaching up to stroke gently around his waist, his fingers brushing over the wool that made up Aziraphale’s fine tunic. 

“You’ll have to get your sword out if you’re to knight me.”

Aziraphale tucked his long tunic up out of the way into his belt before removing his member from his drawers. “Placing it on your shoulders would be a bit ridiculous. How about you kiss on either side of it?”

Crowley leaned forward to take it in his hand, his head coming in close enough for Aziraphale to feel his breath on his skin before he placed a sensuous kiss to the left, then to the right of his cock before retreating to stare at it with a hungry gaze full of longing. “I think you need to dub me now.” His whisper came out hoarse and the hand holding Aziraphale’s member trembling just enough it didn’t escape the angel’s notice. 

“I . . . I dub thee Sir Crowley the Black Knight. It is time to show your appreciation, foul fiend.”

He barely uttered the words before Crowley licked along the length of it, coating the underside completely then taking it into his mouth bit by bit as he was able to cover it with wetness. Above him, Aziraphale put a hand on his head, caressing him from temple to cheek, his finger stopping in its journey to trace along the intricate snake tattoo that had been there as long as he had known Crowley. He felt his tongue licking at the head of his cock before slowly moving down the shaft, more of it being taken into his mouth as the demon inched thumb by maddening thumb along the shaft until the entire length rested in his mouth. He held still for a moment, enjoying the sensation of fullness in his mouth before he got on with sucking on it. 

Aziraphale gasped as the demon finally decided to switch from licking to sucking, almost stumbling forward thanks to the eager power behind that first pull. His fingers closed in a firm grip on Crowley’s strange topknot as he steadied himself, murmuring an apology which understandably received no response. He panted as Crowley’s skilled performance produced sensations he had not felt for a while and wanted badly to experience more often, as often as he and Crowley could get away with it. Feeling wanton, he thrust carefully, watching Crowley to make sure this wasn’t some kind of _faux pas_ that would upset the demon, bringing his enjoyment to an abrupt end. Crowley glanced up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. Aziraphale smiled coyly, thrusting more in time with Crowley’s sucking, his hand which still lay on his topknot almost guiding the demon’s head. 

“Let me know if this is not all right to be doing. Tap my thigh.”

The tap never came. Crowley instead relaxed, allowing Aziraphale to gently guide his head as he sucked, allowing it to escalate with Aziraphale’s excitement until he was all but pumping into Crowley’s mouth, half the movement his thrusting, half the movement from his manipulation of Crowley’s head. Gags emitted from the demon once in a while as drool ran down not only his chin, but Aziraphale’s balls as well, yet still, the tap did not come. The angel slammed into his mouth, his hand keeping Crowley’s head steady as the sucking continued, but nothing else. Crowley could not keep up his tantalising tongue work with Aziraphale turning this all into a sloppy skull fuck frenzy. He curled his fingers around Aziraphale’s buttocks and hung on while the angel made very thorough use of his mouth. A moan escaped his lips, muffled by the cock gagging him and suddenly all was still. His mouth was quite empty.

“Oh, Crowley . . . are you all right? Did I go too far?”

Dazed, Crowley looked up at him, saliva shining on his chin, his eyes glassed over as his mind tried to catch up with current events, namely the sudden lack of a blow job. “Yeah, angel. ‘M fine. Really. But let’s try something else since you interrupted me.”

His mug of mead appeared in his hand, now chilled perfectly. Taking as big of a swallow as he dared, Crowley pressed his lips against Aziraphale’s glans, opening his mouth only as much as he needed to allow entrance. Pleased only a little mead splattered out on to the floor, he carefully licked along the underside of Aziraphale’s shaft allowing him to feel the coolness on his cock.

“Oh! That’s something,” said the angel, even though his words did not even enter the realm of what he was feeling right now. 

His entire cock tingled with the cold, throbbing lightly in areas as cold hit them followed by the tip of Crowley’s tongue, tingling as the cooler areas warmed and giving off the sensation of effervescence, had he known what such a thing was at this time. Where cold turned to warm quickly felt like small bubbles popping along his flesh, prickling, adding dimension on a whole new level to the blow job. Crowley drank down the mead, allowing the rest of his shaft to warm, helping it along with swipes from his tongue alternating between those and long sucks until he was interrupted a second time. Gazing angrily up at Aziraphale, he saw the lust smouldering in those sky blue eyes, causing his irritation to dissipate. He knew he was about to be used in more than one way. 

“You want more, don’t you?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.”

Crowley’s black tunic and leggings disappeared along with his drawers. His own cock had become erect a long time ago and now stood out very noticeably as he knelt naked in front of Aziraphale. Spun around on his cushion, he was pushed down on all fours by a gentle pressure on the back of his head. Hands ran down from his head to his tail bone before the small touch was replaced by the whole of Aziraphale’s body pressing against him, his wool garments gone and only soft skin remaining. Aziraphale’s arms were around his whip-thin body, seeking out his nipples to rub them before giving a quick pinch and letting go. Crowley felt his cock press against his opening before the angel entered him, filled him.

“I rather enjoy you like this, Black Knight. More of our battles should include me using you.”

Grabbing a tight hold of Crowley’s hips, Aziraphale roughly thrust into the welcoming warmth of Crowley’s arse while the demon whimpered in passion beneath him. Aziraphale smiled as he looked upon Crowley, imagining the look of passion upon his face as he moved within him, feeling pleased it was he who gave the demon such pleasure. He had more than knighted him. He had formed an unbreakable bond with him that would last millennia, unbeknown to either of them just yet. 

“You’re doing great, my dear,” he murmured. “But I can’t last. Between the fellatio and this, it’s too sensitive. I’m sorry it’s so short, but are you ready?”

“Go,” gasped Crowley.

Aziraphale gathered himself, preparing Crowley to come when he did with frenzied touch and rough thrusts, his fingernails biting into his arse, leaving reddening dents behind that made Crowley squeal with an unexpected jump. The angel grabbed onto his hips again, hands digging in, holding him firm as the demon bucked against him in his own throes of passion calling out Aziraphale’s name like it was prayer. Aziraphale felt the end coming for him as well, the tightness finally defeating his efforts to hold off until he was sure Crowley was going to come, too. All that was left now was to ride out the waves of pleasure as he filled Crowley with his while the demon’s spilt out on to the floor of the study then collapse onto the convenient bed that appeared beneath them, feather-filled mattress, woollen sheets and all. Crowley shivered with the letdown and Aziraphale pulled the sleeping furs over them, pressing himself close to his trembling partner.

“I’m here,” he said. “Go ahead and relax. I won’t leave. Well, as long as your minions are gone I won’t. Where are they?”

“On a wild goose chase . . . be back in two days, I suspect. Told them to come back no sooner than sundown tomorrow. They’ll probably traipse around the countryside longer than that because they’re not the smartest.” Crowley wrapped his lithe body around Aziraphale’s. “You’re staying. You knighted me, now you got to stay for the celebrations.”

“I thought we just had the celebrations.”

“That was the ceremony. The only person ever knighted with an angel’s cock. Does that count? Am I a knight or just your sexual plaything?”

“Crowley!”

“I don’t mind being your plaything if we’re being honest here. But I kind of like the idea of being Sir Crowley. Why not? ‘M not bad for a demon. You wouldn’t like me if I was. You know . . . I should just . . . stop being the Black Knight now . . . you do your Round Table thing and I’ll . . .” He never finished the sentence, a gentle snore coming instead of the end of the sentence.

Aziraphale smiled at this classic example of post-coital Crowley behaviour — a short cuddle followed by a long nap before he awakened to pamper Aziraphale for patiently waiting while trapped in bed with a cuddly slumbering demon. Settling in for the night, Aziraphale adjusted the covers the best he could from his position only to notice Crowley cracking an eye open again to gaze excitedly at him.

“So, I’m a knight . . .” he said, uncurling himself and sitting up. “I can’t have a nap now. I need to brush up on my sword work. C’mon!”

Aziraphale found himself being unceremoniously yanked from beneath the warm bed covers to help one exuberant sworn enemy practice his footwork for their next duel. Maybe, he thought wryly, it would have been easier to allow him to continue being just a demon in a suit of armour. 

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley's haircut is historically accurate for Saxons at the time. So is their clothing. The armour? No. They would have been running around in just chainmail, probably with a big old wooden shield. Also in those times knights could knight others, but I wanted to play off of them being a demon and an angel, so them thinking it was the right of the king only ended up working for that. It's not like they've ever been known to have the firmest grasp of understanding on human society. 😂


End file.
